Fade to Black
by lovethebroken
Summary: When she woke up, she didn't know who she was or what she was. Now, trying to regain her life back she realizes that she knows a secret that could bring the world she forgot down to their knees. The only problem...she can't remember one single thing.
1. Chapter 1

This is very AU. Something completely different than I've ever written

_- idea given and inspired by Evaesis_

_-story written by lovethebroken_

Semi-small crossover with XMEN.

Hope you enjoy

:o)

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**Prologue**

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My lungs were on fire, my calves were moving as fast as I could make them, and my heart…God…my heart was pounding my ears. Tree branches and bushes were slapping me in the face and arms. I could feel trickles of blood making rails down my cheeks and neck. I darted behind a tree, a wide oak, trying to catch my breath. I wasn't usually this winded. The dart that I pulled out of my arm about a mile ago was starting to affect me now. I was sure it wasn't a sedative now. I would have been breathing in dirt from the path I was running down before now. I placed my palms against the tree trying to pull from it.

Nothing.

My eyes widened. _Oh God…no, no, no. _They were close now. I could hear their footsteps hammering closer and closer. The hunting dogs were barking loudly. I shoved off the tree and began my run again.

"There she is!"

No, no, no. I'm not going back to a lab. I tried to muster up every ounce of energy I could. Every single ounce I had. I stopped and spun around throwing my hands up in front of me. The three men that were behind me clutched their throats painfully. I cried out painfully as I felt the energy dissipate. _You are using all of yourself. Stop_. Their bone dry bodies fell and I took off running…hobbling in any direction. My head was pounding now. I could feel my insides aching.

I yelled as I tripped over the log in front of me. I didn't have the strength to step over. I was tumbling now…down, down, and down further. Rocks were beating my skin, briars and bushes were tearing at me, and then I felt cold. There was nothing but a cold, wet rushing abyss. I couldn't find the energy to pull myself to the surface. I sank further and further.

_Nothing._

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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avengers or XMEN. **

**Original characters are mine/Evaesis**


	2. Chapter 2

Enjoy.

:o)

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**Screaming. All I could hear was screaming. Screaming and someone banging on the wall next to me. There wasn't any light in my small cell of a room. An 8x8 cell with a thick heavy door…this was my _home_. There was a small window with bars at the top. I could stand on my tiptoes and look out if I wanted. I could see the sky from here. It was a gorgeous hue of reds, yellows, and purples. Sunset. It was almost night time. They would be serving dinner in about thirty minutes or so. That was my way of telling the time here. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were served in my cell. Medication was brought at various times during the day, so that I didn't know when they were coming. My medication was in syringes…not pills. I ruined that the first two weeks I was here.**

"**Hey….hey….you listening?"**

**I turned toward the direction of the whispers. _I knew her_.**

"**Hey…Dez…are you listening to me? They…they are gonna kill me Dez."**

**I couldn't find her. I searched the room as well as I could. The light from the day was almost gone.**

"**Are you listening to me?! I said they are going to kill me!"**

**The screaming started again. I covered my ears at the high pitched squeal. I thought my ears would burst at the sound. Screaming. Pounding.**

**It all stopped. A new voice whispered loud and clear over my hand covered ears.**

"**Dezrah."**

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I opened my eyes and stared at the white ceiling. Right. I'm here. I'm still here. I had no idea what these dreams meant. I still had no clue who exactly I was or who I was supposed to be. All I know is what they tell me. That isn't exactly much to go on either.

"You okay?"

I shifted my eyes toward the man sitting in the chair. He introduced himself as Clint Barton a few weeks ago. After that…he introduced me to…well…me. The name Dezrah Winger still felt foreign on my tongue. Dez felt better, but I was still adjusting. Apparently, I was found washed up on the shore of a river fed lake by some local fisherman. I was unconscious, with no ID, or phone. Clint's company he works for was looking for me. I had been missing for three days before they found me. I rubbed my forehead, "Peachy. Just friggn' peachy."

"Another dream?" I watched as he turned the page of his book. Some book by James Patterson. He read- a lot. I knew this somehow. It was a feeling that I had. Apparently, Clint said he and I were acquaintances or _friends_ more like…we had been for years. This in turn explained my tolerance and ability to stand him. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't feel like I was too fond of hospitals, doctors, or even nurses. Clint gave me a sense of peace even if he sat there for hours just quietly reading to himself.

"Same place. Same…prison like _area._ Are you sure I'm not an escaped convict or something?"

His eyes drifted up and he tilted his head as he paused in his thought. He shook his head slowly as if he were trying to add to my frustration level already. "Nope…pretty sure you're a normal chic."

_Normal _chic. I eyed him suspiciously and shook my head. He was lying. I felt it.

'_**She's not my daughter! She's…she's…a freak of nature. I don't have a daughter Gregory.'**_

I rubbed my eyes. The doctors said that my memory would filter in with bits and pieces…eventually. At the moment, I didn't feel my life was very…cheery. Clint stood from his seat and moved to the window. He made me nervous sometimes. It was as if he was waiting on something to come get him.

"I think you're lying to me."

His head snapped around and he watched me for a moment, a small smirk playing on his lips, "You remember something?"

"A feeling. I feel…like you are lying to me. That…and I have the strongest urge to call you a bastard."

He chuckled then and crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"I just don't understand why you all are being so damn secretive. Was I that awful of a person?"

His eyes softened and the humor faded quickly. I wiped away angry tears knowing that I didn't cry. _Dezrah_ didn't cry. It felt foreign also. Anger though…no anger I was familiar with. "Of course not. You…you are a good person Dez. No matter what you feel right now. You are good."

"And also discharged." We both looked toward the door. The tall ominous man stood firm. Eye patch glaring at me, daring me to remember it. "Clint will escort you home. Make sure you are comfortable. You will remain in contact until your memory returns."

Clint nodded from his place at the window without even making a peep. I was sure he was used to following orders. I, however, did not feel the same. I sat up straighter, "I'm sorry Mr. Furby…"

"Fury. Director Fury." He said before crossing his arms. I saw Clint turn slightly hiding his smirk. He reached for his black leather jacket. I watched him for a second trying my hardest to remember anything. The only memorable fragment was the smell of leather. Had it been his jacket that was familiar or someone else? It had to be Clint. Of course, that would make sense because Clint said we were _friends_. I turned my attention then back to the man with the overly long trench coat.

"Right." I blinked once before I flexed my fingers. They were unbelievably stiff today. Fury lowered his gaze to my fingers and then back up before a millisecond passed. "I just want answers. Do you know what it's like to not know anything about yourself?"

"Intimately. Now then, Clint will escort you out. We will be in touch Ms. Winger."

He brushed me off, "But…" He was gone then, the door to my room swinging shut. I huffed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "He is infuriating."

Clint cocked an eyebrow and smirked, "Calling the kettle black, eh?"

What did he mean by that? Was he insinuating _I _was infuriating? "What?"

He shook his head automatically, "Nothing. I'm gonna go grab a nurse. We will be out of here in two shakes."

I ignored him then…all thoughts of my impending discharge gone. I was flooded with an image of sitting at a booth in the back of a small diner. Light blue walls, flags with wolves posed on them. The local towns' mascot. The hills were full of them. The booth seat was cold against my legs. I was wearing a dark blue cotton skirt, brown boots up to my knees. In front of me sat two milk shakes…one vanilla…one strawberry. A hand slowly pushed a small box toward me…arm wrapped in…black leather.

The smell of leather made me dizzy then and I suddenly groaned feeling a headache coming on knowing the memory was lost. I gnawed at my lip and looked toward the door where Clint had just exited. Black leather…we were friends. Right?

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"Are we there yet?"

Clint let out a long sigh. I knew I was frustrating him, but I wasn't sure if I was doing it on purpose because I was bored or because that's how I was with him. It felt completely natural yet over due somehow spending so much time with him. I pushed the sunglass on top of my head and pulled down the over head mirror. I wasn't used to my eyes yet. I don't think I'd ever get used to the violet color. Clint said it had something to do with genetics. I ask about my parents after that and he was very _mum_ on the subject. Yet another surprise…right.

"About fifteen minutes." He drawled out slowly. His ears were slightly tipped red. I suppose that indicated anger. Good. He would know a fraction of how I felt right now.

I shoved the mirror up and fiddled with my nails, "Does Fury always use private planes?"

"Always. Keeps the privacy of things." He checked his phone quickly and then dropped it into his lap. I watched it as it fell between his legs and I felt a twinge of something in my stomach. I looked away quickly feeling my cheeks flush. "You hot?"

I didn't disagree with him and he immediately started messing with the dashboard of the Tahoe. I cleared my throat, "So…what exactly do you do?"

He ran a hand through his hair and pressed his lips together, "I told you…I'm in security."

"You can't elaborate?"

"You can't stop asking questions?" His face instantly contorted and he shook his head. I crossed my arms, snapped my head toward the window, and watched twenty billion trees pass by dreadfully slow. We had been on this god awful dirt road for ten minutes now.

"Bastard," I mumbled.

He sighed, "Dezzy…I'm sorry…I'm tired and hungry…I've to piss like a race horse. I'm just tired."

_Dezzy_? This was new. I glanced back toward him, "I have no memory…._remember_? I'm going to _ask_ questions Clinton."

His eyes grew large at the mention of his name. I sucked in a breath. I remembered his full name. The dashboard flickered and the Tahoe made a sudden noise. Clint looked down at the dashboard then back to me. "What's wrong with it?"

"Battery…" He mumbled not sounding so sure of himself. My attention was caught suddenly by the driveway we were pulling into. Wait…this _was_ a driveway…we were on my driveway the _entire_ time. We pulled up about fifteen feet from the cabin and I shoved my door open before the SUV was even stopped. Clint didn't seem to mind, I heard him chuckle behind me. He turned off the vehicle and I heard his door open. Turning back around, I caught him in the hugest grin that I had ever seen…in the last few weeks anyway. He leaned against the hood, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A ball cap was now on his head.

There was that feeling again. I pushed it away quickly, "This is mine?"

"All yours."

"So…I'm loaded," I deducted. I turned toward the house again and stared at it. I wanted to remember something…but nothing was happening. Maybe I was trying to hard just like Professor Xavier had mentioned. He was momentarily my _shrink._ As if I didn't already feel crazy enough.

"Eh…your parents were. You inherited this. You sold everything of your families and keep the land and cabin."

_They sent you away Dez. _"When did they die?"

"When you were seventeen." Ten years ago. I didn't feel any remorse. Odd.

"Can I visit their graves?"

"If that's something you want. We will have to fly to South Carolina though."

I turned toward him and found he was unloading the bags from the back hatch, "Then why buy a cabin in Washington?"

"Vacation house. Look…you wanted to keep this place because it had some kind of sentimental value. And no…I can't tell you what that was. You will just have to wait for X to tell you."

"X? How would Professor Xavier know? And why do you and Fury keep calling him X? I just don't understand Clint. I feel lost and I can't stand this feeling!"

The Tahoe turned on suddenly, radio blaring from some old rock station. The windshield wipers flicked back and forth quickly. I shrieked and backed away. The cabin caught my attention then. The lights were on…flickering as fast as hummingbirds' wings. I shuffled backwards, I was on the ground. When had that happened? The crickets were chirping louder and louder. It sounded like they were screaming at me. My breathing increased just as the Tahoe revved its engine.

All I could see were bright white spots in my vision, my head was pounding, my body was tingling. Clint appeared in my line of vision and pressed his hands on my face, "You need to calm down."

"W-w-what?" I wasn't doing this. _Was I?_

"Dezrah…you need to calm down. You need to breathe. Breathe…you have seven years of meditation under your belt…just breathe."

I stared at him, he looked increasingly pale. I sucked in a breath and he grunted almost falling forward. "Calm down. Close your eyes. Everything is normal. Nothing is happening. You are happy. Nothing is wrong. You are okay."

I counted to twenty and opened my eyes. Everything had stopped. I looked at the house…lights were off. The crickets weren't screaming at me. I glanced over at the Tahoe. Clint was sitting against the tire. His cap tossed beside him. Sweat was rolling down his forehead.

"Oh my God…Clint, Clint…are you okay?"

Despite the twinge in my stomach I pressed my hands to his forehead. He was ice cold. I scrunched my eyebrows together. "Peachy."

He smirked and I let out a nervous laugh, "I did this, didn't I? Clint…I'm not normal. I can feel it."

His head slumped down and he gave a weak nod, "You're a mutant…and you're just a normal as the rest of us."

Mutant. I'm a _freak_.

"**She's a mutant Gregory. I will not have a _mutant_ as a daughter. You did this! You and your escapades and your lavish travels around the world. _You!_ You _cursed_ me."**

"**Honey… no matter what she is…she's still our daughter."**

"**No! I don't have a daughter. That _thing_…should have never been born."**

My fingers fell away from his rugged face. His blue eyes watched me carefully as I leaned back on my ankles. _Mutant. _That word felt familiar. Way too familiar.

I was a mutant.

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**Thank you for reading! Now go review! **

**:o)**

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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avengers or XMEN. **

**Original characters are mine/Evaesis**


	3. Chapter 3

Enjoy!

:o)

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Clint leaned against the counter after he plopped the last of five boxes onto the kitchen table. His blue shirt was soaked with sweat, his skin unnaturally pale, black shadows under his eyes, and he still looked incredibly weak. I glanced up at him as I slowly opened the boxes containing what he told me where old journals of mine. Apparently, Professor X had been my shrink before.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked him once more. He waved a hand as he melted into a chair at the kitchen table. Everything in this cabin was cedar, even straight down to the light fixtures. The texture, light scheme, the décor, the…everything just screamed home to me. For once, the first time since I had woken up…I felt at home. I felt familiar. Aside from the obvious…Clint was familiar.

"I'm good." He laid his forehead on the table, arms in his lap. I had the sudden feeling he was going to pass out. I moved quickly to the sink and grabbed a wash cloth. I turned on the water. It sputtered for a moment and then kicked into a constant flow. I let the water run as hot as I could before tossing the cloth into the bottom of the sink. I looked up and caught my reflection in the window. Violet eyes staring back at me calling me names…_freak_, _mutant, outsider, weirdo_. The steam caught my attention and I picked up the cloth, I squeezed as much excess water out as I could. My fingers tingled from the intense heat. It didn't seem to bother me. Maybe that had something to do with my _condition_. I unfolded it quickly and laid it over his neck. He moaned and thumped his head on the table again, "You remembered."

I nodded unsure if I had or not, but suddenly a memory of a bloody and unconscious Clint laying out in the back yard flooded my vision. I grabbed the table for support, "I've done this to you before?"

He didn't give an answer as he stood suddenly. He wobbled for a second or more before latching onto the counter to steady himself. He shook his head and clutched the cloth in his hand, "Everything you need is in those boxes. I'm not sure where the latest journals are. I haven't been here in a while. I-I'm going to go upstairs for a bit."

My eyes watched his retreating figure as he slowly trudged up the stairs. He paused for a moment halfway before continuing. Setting myself down hard in a chair I sighed heavily. My eyes wondered around the kitchen trying to remember something about being here. The décor wasn't much to speak of. Just plain red towels, red salt and pepper shakers, red pots and pans hanging about the island. Maybe my favorite color was red. _You think? _It seemed feasible. I glanced back at the boxes. Why would I box up journals and store them in the attic if they were important to me?

I reached into the first box that Clint had brought down and pulled out a brown faux leather journal that had a buckle flap. It looked extremely worn. I, obviously, was an avid writer. Flipping open the journal, the pages were an off white, flipping through quickly I saw that the pen was always black. Same neat half cursive, half print handwriting. I stopped almost toward the end…

_12-26-10/1:36am_

_Marie, Scott, and Logan stopped by today. They flew in. Of all things. Geez. Talk about abusing your power of highly powered and highly invisible aircrafts…Scott. He shows off a bit too much for me. Logan seemed uncomfortable around me. I think he's still angry with me. Marie was fawning after him-per usual._

_I think they just felt sorry for me- being alone on Christmas and all. Like I could really give a flying fuck. I was alone and locked in a cage for eight Christmas's. Why is this place any different? This is a prison. I lock myself away because I hurt people. I hurt him. He still keeps coming back- dumb bastard._

_I scrunched my eyebrows as I flipping about twenty pages ahead. My writing…her writing…whoever this person was. Old me or whatever….she didn't seem like much of a happy person._

_1-15-11/3:30am_

_He listened this time. He didn't come back. Guess he's not a dumb bastard after all._

_I'm finding a way to cure myself._

_I'm done living this way._

I closed the journal and sat there for a few moments staring at the brown leather. My heart ached in my chest. I wanted to know who I was…who I am, but what if I didn't like the answer. What if I changed my mind about being me?

"Who are you?" I whispered to myself as I tossed a journal back into the box. I was met by silence. "Who am I?"

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I sat cross legged on my bed…or at least what I thought was my room. It was decorated with several owl figurines, hand crafted cedar furniture, and old plush blankets that looked to be older that I was. The cabin was quite lavish for someone like me, I got the distinct impression I didn't care for it too much, but at the same time…I loved it. Is this what it felt like to hate and love something at the same time?

Letting out a large sigh, I rubbed my aching eyes. I had already read over half of the first journal. It was exhausting, to think that this person…this woman who wrote these thoughts…was me.

A throat cleared and I shut the journal quickly looking up. Clint stood there, taller than a moment ago, skin looking a bit tanner than normal. His hair damp, "You okay?"

"Yea, just…reading. You look better." I tossed the journal back into the box.

"The effects wear off quickly. Sometimes it depends on the episode."

I nodded at his words and stared at the journals. Apparently I haven't gotten that far in the journals yet. I idly wondered how many times I had hurt him…hurt anyone. "You always used brown journals…black pens. Your dad kept the exact type of journals."

My eyes rose to his and flickered away quickly. Swallowing dryly I shifted, "Have you read these?"

He crossed his arms as he leaned on the door jam. He gnawed on his lip for a moment watching me silently. I had a sudden feeling…a memory maybe…of being watched in a room. A cell…like a prisoner. I pulled a pillow closer to my body and hugged it tightly. I didn't want to feel that way again…ever again. "No…you never let me."

Nodding, I wanted to believe him…I needed to. I needed to trust someone and right now- he was all I had. "Who are…um…" I dug through a box beside the bed and pulled a journal that I had read before moving everything upstairs to my room. I turned the pages quickly as I could. Clint stood tall, firm, and patient. He intimidated me a bit…the will he had. "Marie…Scott…and Logan? I thumbed through a few of the journals over the years…their names keep popping up. Quite a bit actually."

He smirked and gave a slight nod, "Other mutants. Part of Professor Xavier's _minions_. "

I smiled at the sarcastic tone he gave, "Sounds like you aren't fond of them...Clinton."

His face froze for a moment and something seemed to pass over his eyes. I couldn't exactly pinpoint it. "Logan and I have…exchanged words on occasion."

I didn't press further. I dropped the journal back into the box beside the bed and went to grab another journal that was in a box labeled **"A". **"Were you there when I was found? You aren't anywhere in these journals."

He shoved off the door frame and strolled leisurely to the bed. He stopped about a foot away and let his eyes fall onto the stacks of journals I was looking through, "About the fourth or fifth. You wrote constantly…sometimes multiple times a day."

"Yea…I had seven entries for one day." I handed him the journal without thinking twice. I shook my head and grabbed another journal, "My thoughts are jumbled…like a crazy person's. I'm not crazy right?"

He chuckled then, "No…not any more than the rest of us."

That made me feel _slightly_ better. I watched him thumb through the journal and pause on a page. His eyes swept over the worn page and then he turned quickly, "What?"

"We never held you against your will…while you were at SHIELD. You wanted to stay. Just…just remember that." He laid the journal down on the bed and gave a swift nod before he mumbled _'goodnight'_ and left. I picked the journal up quickly and flipped through until I found what he was talking about.

_6-16-07/__8:26pm_

_I came to SHIELD thinking that they could help me. Fury described this place as something that could help me. X said that it was my decision. Logan tried to convince me that it was just because they wanted my power. I don't know what to believe. They keep me on a tight leash here. I always have an escort when moving around the complex. I say complex like it's a prison…it feels like a prison sometimes. High walled security, spotlights, cameras, men and women with guns, codes and locks…maybe I made the wrong decision to be here. Maybe Logan was right all along…I never should have left X._

_I'm starting to believe I moved from one prison to the next. Time will tell if my decision was wise or not._

I sighed heavily and flipped on three pages. I glanced up at the door way and then continued reading. Clint's words filtered through my head. I chose to stay. _Why?_

_6-29-07/__2:20am_

_As you can tell- I don't sleep often. There is someone here that has the same issue. I've seen him come and go through the complex. Sometimes he looks well, he smiles and laughs with the armed guards and SHIELD agents. Sometimes…he looks beaten, he has bruises, cuts, and he walks more slowly. He doesn't smile or laugh during that period. I understand him. I haven't met him directly yet…but I heard Fury call him Hawkeye. I wonder what his 'power' or 'skill' is exactly. I wonder if he knows what it feels like to be in a prison. He sure looks like he might._

_6-30-07_

_10:37pm_

_His name is Clint Barton. He smiled at me today. Surprisingly enough…I smiled back._

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Sorry it's a bit short. I have neglecting this story and concentrating more on **The Slow Burn: Flicker**. That and I have wedding bells on the brain. 24 days and counting.

Hope you enjoyed regardless. Thank you for reading!


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